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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24205537">The Dawn, the Dusk and the Darkness</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunwisher/pseuds/sunwisher'>sunwisher</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>ATEEZ (Band)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Alternate Universe - Witchcraft, Angst with a Happy Ending, Curses, Dark Witch! Jongho, Established Relationship, Good Witch! Seonghwa, Good Witch! Wooyoung, M/M, Polyamory, Rating May Change</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 04:35:12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>10,354</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24205537</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunwisher/pseuds/sunwisher</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>What's more, Jongho wasn't the seventh son of the seventh daughter of the most notorious dark witch coven for nothing. If it came down to it, he knows what he has to do.</p><p>The price for magic, for power, he knows, has always been high. </p><p>It was nothing though, when compared to Wooyoung and Seonghwa and the blessed opportunity to spend the rest of his miserable life with the two men he loved most, cradled in the comfort of their gold and red which colored his obsidian sky in shades of fire when the darkness in him threatened to tear him apart and claim his soul for itself. </p><p>Or, Jongho is a dark witch who's learning to live in peace with his boyfriends and good witches, Wooyoung and Seonghwa, but fate isn't willing to give in so easily, putting everything they are to each other to the test in a race against the stars.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Choi Jongho/Jung Wooyoung, Choi Jongho/Jung Wooyoung/Park Seonghwa, Choi Jongho/Park Seonghwa, Jung Wooyoung/Park Seonghwa</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>53</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>The Dawn, the Dusk and the Darkness</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hello rockstars,</p><p>This is my first time writing WooJongHwa and I just couldn't keep the idea out of my head~ It was only supposed to be a 5k drabble but I have a lot to say haha! I hope you enjoy reading!!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>There is a restless energy in the air as the fortune teller glances at Jongho. She stands beside the door leading to the inner chamber of the store, her red-rimmed wide eyes brimming with wisdom as they rake over his face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Gold will shatter because of you."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There aren't any greetings or attempts at small talk, just this plain statement flung to the atmosphere seemingly with a hope that it sticks. The woman has a freshness surrounding her which is way too youthful for the knowledge she possesses and though she looks to be in her twenties, he knows that she is way older than she seems to be. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jongho has worked for her for three years, yet she's still as much an enigma as she was when he first met her. He doesn't even know her name. She's never asked for his too, though he assumes that's only because she already knows.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Names gave you power and he knows that she has power over him. Power he had a feeling she didn’t want, like a weapon in your toolkit which you never knew what to do with, so you just let it exist in the folds of dried snakeskin and the smell of rust.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jongho’s pretty sure she hasn’t aged a day since he started working for her. Her auburn hair is still the same shade, shiny and bright, always free with a scarf which covered half of her head, voluminous curls extending down to the curve of her hips.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Some days, she tells him things like this randomly, but Jongho knows better than to ignore them, so he turns after he sets the jar of mountain ash bark skin back on the shelf. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Gold?" He questions, though he already knows what she's talking about. Gold is sunshine and sparkles, summer and spring, the brightest star he wishes upon, the one he holds in his arms every night. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gold is Wooyoung.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That must be why she ignores him. She doesn't speak any more than is required of her, so it makes sense that she'll ignore his pointless enquiry.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"He's going to put his life on the line for you. You must not let him. You're strong. You can take it. Make him stop or you lose him again."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s blatant, the warning that is, but it’s not clear enough, like a cloud you have over you that you’re aware of which you don’t pay attention to because you don’t know what’s coming until the rain pours down upon you and you’re left running for cover.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jongho doesn’t know what to do with it. Wooyoung will always put his life on the line for him, for them. It wasn't anything new, and Jongho would do the same, no questions asked so he understands, but it doesn’t make it any easier. Jongho has tried and failed in changing the other's mind a million times over, repeatedly losing to the other's stout resilience and astute resolution in the face of every threat that they have had to deal with. If Wooyoung wanted to risk something for Jongho, there was no way he'd be able to stop him, and without a time frame to work with, this warning is as vague as the threat hanging around them on a daily basis is. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Should he walk on eggshells around Wooyoung and play the role of the helicopter boyfriend? Sentence him to an eternity inside their store? Ask him to never use his magic again?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What about him?” Jongho asks instead because he is certain that the woman won’t tell him anything more. He’s known her long enough to know that. She doesn’t need a name to know who he is asking about either.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The fortune-teller gives him an apologetic smile. “Red will be powerless in the midst of destruction.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Seonghwa wouldn’t be affected then, he surmises to his relief. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Will he… will he get hurt?” Jongho asks anyway, because he doesn’t trust his rotten luck which never seemed to stop chasing him down even as he tries to run from it with all his might.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The fortune-teller stares at him as if she is considering giving him a twisted answer again. Feeling fear rise in his throat, climbing up his lungs with its sharp and thick talons, Jongho waits. The woman must see that he has had enough for today because she shakes her head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Red will have to stand by and watch, but he will not be hurt,” she says. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s definitely more to it than the simple statement, but she turns around, long hair whipping in the air, gazing at the door and back at him with a sliver of a meaningful smile. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“When he comes, lock up and go home. There’s no need to let me know,” she says, voice steady and leaving no space for him to even ask for an explanation. He’s left standing behind the oak wood counter, staring at the magenta swirling floral patterns on the thick golden curtain which leads to the inner rooms where she reads the fortunes of their customers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There's a void in his chest which calls to him and the pull is strong, but there are two other strains of magic connected to his soul now and he focuses on them, in the grounding energy threaded through it to make him stay rooted and sure-footed where he wants to be. He won't be answering the pull of his magic, not any time soon.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The next customer who comes in is a first-timer at the store, a young man wearing a faded dark blue hoodie that nearly swallows him up, his worn boots speaking volumes about the field he worked in. Jongho can barely see his face as he stumbles in, eyes transfixed on his boots like he'd never quite learned to look up. The crest on the ring on his finger glints under the yellow lamps creating the ambience in the store. He places an order of enchanted rose petals, quite a specific and rare order, and Jongho has half the mind to ask him what he needs it for, but the customer is fidgety as if he's in a hurry. He constantly glances back at the door, hair matted to his forehead with sweat as the hood slips. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jongho smells fear, the viscous and dragging feeling of it pungent in the air in the store now. It's obvious that the other man is in danger. Jongho’s not the kindest person around, years of not the best kind of upbringing having killed more than just his spirit, but he can’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> help. His fingers meet the other’s while he pays the advance amount, his senses shoving flashes of a man with burgundy hair and malicious intent, leaving a stale aftertaste that embeds itself in the back of his throat and the roof of his mouth. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jongho can’t help with his magic, not when he is who he is, not when he doesn’t know this man well, but he knows what’s in store for the other. It’s a terrible feeling, to be aware of what is about to happen and to be able to do nothing except stand and watch when images in his head tell him that this man is walking out to his death, that whatever had been hunting him has finally caught up. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jongho wants to warn the other man, lock the door up and try to protect the other from harm in any way he can because he wants to be good, like Wooyoung and Seonghwa are, but he wasn’t born to be good, not like they were, nothing in his bloodstream a constant chant of altruism and unconditional love for his fellow beings driven by all things bright and scintillating. Jongho was born to serve the dark, the passed down legacy of a strain of evil which constantly lurked underneath his consciousness no matter how hard he tries to deny its existence. It’s right there taking up all the space inside him with thick, black tendrils that held onto him like glue, never giving him a choice, smothering him like a pillow that just wouldn’t move despite all his continuous, strenuous struggle. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Though this is not the first time he’s wanted to help someone, it hurts that his magic won’t let him, because there’s nothing in this for him, nothing that his magic sees anyway which is worth its or his benefit. Jongho tries to cast a safety spell on the weary man, but his magic doesn’t budge in the slightest, and he feels it, the cut slashing through the side of his ribs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A punishment for doing what he isn’t supposed to do, for going against his nature.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jongho stays resilient though, used to the way his blood has always been the price for going against his magic’s will. He tries an evasion spell and feels blood pour down his back from another sharp slice horizontally over the skin of his back. He bites his teeth at the pain, even though he is used to the familiar harsh sting. Absently, he wonders if he'll ever push hard enough to fall into the arms of death. If his magic will let him die or stop him before it's too late for both of them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The man’s gaze when Jongho catches it spells understanding, fear and acceptance all in one look like he knows that Jongho’s probably the last person he’s going to see today. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If… If I don’t come for this delivery, can you send this to this address anyway?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jongho nods, shakily handing over the change to the man. They don't do home delivery, but a dying man's wish has to be respected. He debates if begging the fortune teller for help would finally make her change her mind because there’s absolutely no way she doesn't know what is happening under her roof, but he's tried it enough times to know she'll never mess with fate, not like witches were willing to do. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The man in front of him is as good as dead because Jongho's a dark witch whose magic won't listen when he wants it to. He feels gutted, sinking in despair and self-hatred, spiralling into the dark corners of his mind he'd made his home in when no one wanted to see him being vulnerable, when all his family had wanted was the perfect seventh son of the seventh daughter with enough power to burn the world down if he so wished. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The man swivels on his feet as the door to the shop opens, a familiar face coming into view with long bangs covering sharp eyes, a perfect slope of a long nose pillowed in between plump cheeks, pink lips parted and slightly wet.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Seonghwa. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Jongho hurries to get to the entrance to ask him to help the other man, but the man's steps are purposeful as he brushes past Seonghwa. Jongho's feet get caught in the part of the floorboard where the carpet is slightly raised, and he thinks,</span>
  <em>
    <span> this is it, this is how another man dies because of me</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Miraculously, Seonghwa catches his pleading gaze and looks back at the retreating man with wide eyes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then, in a move he doesn’t see coming, the elder man trips on thin air. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It's wonderfully acted out, executed so well that it looks immensely convincing, the flailing of his arms as he tries to reach out to grab thin air, one perfectly polished shoe adorning an ankle Jongho has kissed intimately and with affection twisting as he falls. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Seonghwa's all graceful sways and measured strides, flailing isn't something he does. He's gangly and lean, but he's lived most of his life in prim and proper circumstances, taught manners Jongho hasn't even heard of, attended hours of classes on perfect posture and the proper way to hold a teacup at a public gathering and at dinner. That Seonghwa will never fall so severely in front of a total stranger. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jongho frowns, limbs unable to move as they lock up on him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The customer catches Seonghwa before his face meets the ground. It's like time freezes. Jongho does too, watching as Seonghwa grabs the arm of the man to balance himself, as Jongho stands there unable to move even his pinkie, truly and utterly stuck. The customer lets Seonghwa hold on to him, worriedly looking him up and down before he goes out the door after Seonghwa has assured him that he's fine.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Hyung," Jongho calls, finally realizing that it's Seonghwa's magic that had frozen him behind the counter. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Seonghwa turns around, a small smile on his face as he straightens the collar of his maroon turtleneck.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Jongho," he says, voice full of mirth as he snaps his fingers, finally freeing Jongho from the warm grip of his magic.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rounding the table, Jongho rushes to the door only to have a familiar warm body pull him against their chest, arms curling around his middle. The bleeding cut on his back stings as the fabric of the sweater he's wearing presses close with the added pressure against him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I have to go," Jongho says, struggling.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"No, you don't. He'll be fine. I didn't trip for no reason at all, Jongho," Seonghwa says fondly, pressing his sharp nose to Jongho's nape and sighing softly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What did you do?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Seonghwa kisses his nape, soft lips fluttering over the small hair there.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A safety spell and an evasion spell. He’ll be alright,” Seonghwa says quietly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jongho lets out a shuddering breath as he lets himself relax in Seonghwa’s embrace, closing his eyes and sighing in relief.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you, hyung. I tried, but…” Jongho trails off, heart hurting at the continual betrayal from his magic which never got better no matter how many times his magic had proven to him that it wouldn’t listen to him if there was nothing in it for it to feed on.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shushing him, Seonghwa holds him tightly, rubbing the side of his cheek against his nape, kissing the sensitive skin again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s not your fault. It’s not your fault that your magic won’t listen to you. You can’t help it, Jongho. I know that. Wooyoung knows that. Nobody else matters,” he says, voice softening imperceptibly, melting like wax under the heat of the wick, like wind caressing cherry blossoms in the spring. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jongho wants to bottle his voice up in a rose quartz decanter and hold it close to his soul for an eternity, or as long as he has control over himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s an argument bubbling from within, but Seonghwa’s touch grounds him, and Jongho thinks that maybe a repeat of every fight they’ve ever had over his magic can wait for a little longer. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>One of Seonghwa’s arms retreat as he lets him go to pat a warm palm down his back. Jongho flinches away even if he wills himself to not do it, but Seonghwa will heal him if he stays in proximity. When he turns to the elder with a palm held out in a motion to not come closer, the curve on Seonghwa’s face signalling happiness is long gone, having been replaced by disappointment and a strain of anger and guilt.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jongho, you promised,” Seonghwa says, and there’s none of the warmth there. It’s cold, a tone Seonghwa uses when he’s meeting clients to sound professional, when he’s negotiating with dark witches who are beyond redemption, when he truly thinks someone is hopeless.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It hurts like a glacier streams over him, covering him in the kind of cold that he’ll never survive in.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry,” Jongho says, gaze flickering over Seonghwa’s red palms as the elder’s fingers tremble slightly though he’s trying to not let it show. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hyung, I’m okay,” Jongho assures, putting his hand down and walking forward. Seonghwa stumbles backwards, eyes still fixed on his bloody hands. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, </span>
  <em>
    <span>no</span>
  </em>
  <span>, you </span>
  <em>
    <span>promised</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Seonghwa says, shaking his head, looking absolutely devastated, the dark almond shade of his eyes almost black with fear, pupils dilated. Where there used to be stars in his eyes, it's just plain obsidian now, bare and hurting.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry,” Jongho whispers, and he can feel the blood soaking through as he tries to attempt a calming spell on Seonghwa only to receive a deeper cut over his chest that distorts the ends of his apology. Seonghwa’s head whips up, the long bangs of his lustrous, smooth hair rising and falling at the movement. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What is happening, Jongho? Tell me what’s wrong,” Seonghwa pleads, eyes shining with unshed tears, looking completely lost and devastated. The smell of iron is almost unbearable in the room, and there is no way that Seonghwa doesn’t catch the way it has intensified with the new cut.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jongho only tilts his head and looks away as the realization begins to dawn on the elder’s visage.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did you… just try to put a spell on me?” Seonghwa asks, voice thin. He loves him, and all he sees is starlight, falling like rain over him, lighting him up, blinding him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jongho can feel himself pale by the second, blood loss catching up to him, so he just smiles weakly, reassuringly. “Just.. a calming spell. Didn’t work, obviously,” he says and laughs pathetically.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s a moment where the world tilts and Jongho can do nothing except shut his eyes because he has nothing else to brace himself on. Seonghwa’s suddenly there, like he always is, holding him up with thin arms that cherishes unprecedented strength, and he wonders if Seonghwa knows that he holds more than just his body, that he has half his heart and his soul, two burdens weighing in on him for as long as Jongho is alive. There’s an apology that threatens to escape his mouth, but he knows it would only bring more pain and a conversation they’d rather avoid.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let me help,” Seonghwa whispers in what seems like the most forlorn tone he can muster up, “Please stop doing this to yourself. You promised, Jong-ah,” Seonghwa repeats, his voice splintering every which way, his tears wetting the side of Jongho’s cheek.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Take me home,” Jongho says instead, eyes still closed, eyelashes wet from the pain unleashed by his own magic.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Seonghwa shakes his head vehemently, still embracing him. “Let me heal you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” Jongho says. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If not me, think about Wooyoung. He’d hate to see you like this. Let me heal you, Jong-ah.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wooyoung would yell at him, and he’ll be hurt, but letting them heal someone like him would drain them and that was something Jongho refused to do to them. He knows how it feels to have your power drained to the very last bit, only to be forced to replenish your reserves with the clock ticking away, a metaphorical sword hanging over his shoulder if he refused to play along. Jongho wasn’t about to drain his boyfriends for three cuts on his body, especially when it was nothing that could kill him if he just got himself patched up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The secret is that even if he was on his deathbed, he wouldn’t let them help, but truth hurts, and both Seonghwa and Wooyoung deserves a life free of pain, something they wouldn’t have because they’ve gone ahead and tied theirs with Jongho’s sullied and blackened soul. The least he can do is try to keep the pain to a minimum until he can finally find a way out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We have a deal, don’t we, hyung?” Jongho asks, a last resort. Seonghwa tenses in his arms.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please,” the elder pleads again. This time it’s unclear what he’s asking Jongho for. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Seonghwa doesn't beg, not to anyone, but Jongho and Wooyoung weren't just anyone, and that’s probably why he's seen him beg for a million things by now. This particular plea though, it drives through his skin and suffocates his lungs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” Jongho repeats sternly even if his legs feel weaker the more time they stall.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jongho feels Seonghwa’s chest shake as he takes a stuttering deep breath and finally nods, agreeing half-heartedly to Jongho’s unfair request. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s ice in his veins because he knows what he has just pulled on Seonghwa, what he’s reminded the other of, and it makes him feel like he’d shatter into smithereens at the slightest touch from someone, but Jongho’s never claimed to be the fairest of them all, not with how much darkness dwelt within him giving him life every day, even if Jongho would choose death over and over again if it meant escaping this fate, if he could save Wooyoung and Seonghwa the pain of being bonded to him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The fortune teller’s words are at the front of his mind, the tip of his tongue, the edge of his vision, but he’s too weak to talk to Seonghwa about it now, so he holds back. It can wait till they go home. He wonders if the woman had known about what exactly was to take place. She probably did. She had informed him of someone visiting him after all.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The drive back home is quiet with Seonghwa giving him concerned glances every now and then, the bleeding slowing but the blood still soaking through Wooyoung’s jacket which had been kept in the backseat. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s going to skin you alive,” Seonghwa says when they’re turning the corner which leads them home. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Probably,” Smiling at the words, Jongho responds, heart warming as he prepares himself for Wooyoung’s anger.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Home is a nondescript building right behind the store where Wooyoung and Seonghwa sell charms and other magical accessories, assisting people who need help with good magic. Wooyoung’s the one who mans the place more often than not because Seonghwa usually got whisked away for out of station assignments in association with his Coven circle as part of one clause of a deal he had made with the devil in order to stay with Jongho and Wooyoung.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jongho tries to tune the dark cloud of worry that looms in the car.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hyung, I’m not gonna die,” he says, chuckling weakly and regretting it when he feels the cut on his side protest against the move.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If you think my concern is only for when you’re dying, then I think I’ve failed you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s a typical Seonghwa statement to make. To think of everything as his fault immediately, but it’s one of those things that tied them together in a bond that worked through all three of them and made it easier for them to understand each other. Jongho can’t complain, but he would have, had he had the energy to do so. However, he’s indisposed at the moment and even though he wants to pull Seonghwa in by the collar and speak the words he wants straight against his lips, he can’t, so he settles for extending a bloody hand to squeeze the elder’s thigh to convey that he thinks that whatever he just said is bullshit.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Seonghwa laughs, but it’s a pained sound. It’s the blood, Jongho knows. He can’t blame the elder man.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he finally stumbles into their home, the polished wooden floor is cold underneath his bare feet. It’s the rain, off-season and unpredictable, drowning everything in humidity and cold and gloom that just wouldn’t stop no matter how hard everything in Jongho screamed for the skies to clear out even if he loves the rain, but rain brings bad thoughts and keeps him on edge and reminds him of everything he’s done, all the evidence washed away till scarlet rivulets shifted to clear ones at the power of the water wielder spell of his elder sister. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wooyoung makes it better though, but Jongho can’t stick to him forever and worry him any more than he already does. It would be unfair and selfish for him to do it when the other man spends hours at night just carding his fingers through his hair, pressing kisses on his forehead and face, anywhere he can touch really and whisper soothing words, especially on nights when Seonghwa is away and there’s the constant fear of someone finding them again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jongho lets his body collapse against the couch, digging out and throwing Wooyoung’s fluffy pillow to the bean bag. The item in question was the good witch’s favorite object to keep between his thighs when he watched movies with them and getting blood on it wasn’t on Jongho’s itinerary for the day. It was also a sure way to rile the other up even more than he already will be when he sees Jongho. He had tried to block the pain from the bond, as he was sure Seonghwa had also tried, but it would only hold for so long.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Seonghwa wouldn’t be able to patch him up properly which meant that Wooyoung had to be called in. He honestly wants to slap some band-aids and call it a day, but the cut on his chest, the one made in protest of his attempt to put a calming spell on Seonghwa had been deep enough to cut through all the outer layers of his skin. A little harsher and he would have bled out then and there in the middle of the fortune teller’s place.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jongho huffs out a shaky breath as he watches Seonghwa fiddle with his phone, it’s more his hands shaking than actual fumbling, the blood on his hands having dried to a rusty shade. There are a few hums and a whisper of Wooyoung’s name followed by a gentle request asking him to get home. Jongho can feel his consciousness sink into the abyss but he holds on tight because if he was unconscious when Wooyoung got home, the other would kill him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Though he can’t imagine a better death than at the hands of the two people he loves most, he is greedy for more time with them, and dying now would be an impediment to his heart’s desires.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Three years ago, he hadn’t known that he was allowed to want something, and now he does, he wants two people and all the love they can give him. In return, he doesn't have much to give, but whatever he has is theirs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A soul for a soul for a soul.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The sound of the door opening and Wooyoung’s absent-minded humming pulls him straight out of his thoughts. Seonghwa bends down to sit next to him before he decides otherwise, standing up as if to act as a buffer zone between him and Wooyoung. Jongho appreciates the gesture, but it isn’t that simple.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It never has been.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Seonghwa hyung, Jong-ah, I'm home!" Wooyoung sing-songs even before he's seen them, a skip to his step that Jongho doesn't have to see as socked feet echo in the hallway before he pokes his head around the corner. Wooyoung’s small hands sparkle with gold, residual magic leaking out as he lets himself be in the comfortable space between the three of them. He smiles and waves at them, an arc of gold hanging in the air for half a second before he wades around them to go to the dining area and places a cover on the table, the smell of tteokbokki from the diner down the street wafting and filling the room. He’d probably bought it when Seonghwa had texted him saying he was going to visit Jongho. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Twisting his neck, Seonghwa gives Jongho a look that’s fond and frightened. There’s a quiet enquiry there, </span>
  <em>
    <span>should we tell him.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Wooyoung makes the decision for them before they can settle on one themselves, probably because he's always been too proficient in reading them. Ever since the bond sealed itself, and even before it, he’s been the more sensitive one out of the three of them, great at picking up details and reading into the slightest shifts in their bond. It might have been his mom's mage lineage, or something else that couldn't quite be put into words. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jongho thinks it's just Wooyoung being his magical self.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know, I’ve had this weird feeling for an hour or so, I was about to call Jongho when you called me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wooyoung’s voice is bright and lilting as it disperses in the confines of their home like sunlight lighting up the world at dawn, warm and pleasant. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There's a moment where everything stills as Wooyoung comes and plops down next to Jongho, his hands squeezing Seonghwa’s shoulder too, rendering Seonghwa's move of acting as a barrier between the youngest and Wooyoung null. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Hey, baby," Wooyoung says softly, clinging to Jongho's bicep as he snuggles close and rubs his face against the fabric covering his skin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jongho wheezes for another breath, still tensed up. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wooyoung raises his head as if he's been electrocuted, using the other hand, now shaking, to pat his torso in a move mirroring what Seonghwa had done in the fortune teller's store. His hand shakes even more as he pulls it away, not caring to look down like he's certain of what it is as he meets Jongho's gaze with a frown, panic swirling in the depth of his warm eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"</span>
  <em>
    <span>What did you do?</span>
  </em>
  <span>" Wooyoung asks, his voice a horrified whisper. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jongho doesn't get to answer him as the grip around his bicep tightens, Wooyoung's gaze accusing as he looks up at Seonghwa.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You knew he was hurt and you didn't care to tell me? Fuck you, hyung!"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Seonghwa stands there like a statue, his face blank as Wooyoung fumbles with Jongho's sweater. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"What are you doing? Help me patch him up!" His voice is loud and panicked. Jongho wants to apologize, wants to tell him it isn't Seonghwa's fault, but a panicked Wooyoung is like a radio that just wouldn't listen to anything else. To reach him through the haze of the concern clouding his senses is something none of them have been able to do. The only option left is to let him be, to let him do what he wants to until he breaks down. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Seonghwa unfreezes and spins on his feet, raising Jongho's arms with a firm grip on his wrists because he is too weak to raise them on his own to rid himself of his sweater. Wooyoung's tears make his face shine when Jongho opens his eyes which had been scrunched up in pain. The other's eyes have turned stormy and red as he barks at Seonghwa to get the first aid box. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I'm sorry," Jongho whispers as Wooyoung's hands card through his sweaty hair, mumbled words of complaint and worry flying right over his head. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Not a word," Wooyoung tells him sternly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Hyung, I'm sorry," Jongho repeats.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This time Wooyoung looks at him with a pleading look.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You told me that you wouldn't, Jongho. You </span>
  <em>
    <span>promised</span>
  </em>
  <span> us that you wouldn't. If you'd cared about it, you wouldn't have gone ahead and done this all over again. I know you want to help, but it hurts," he sobs, "it </span>
  <em>
    <span>hurts</span>
  </em>
  <span> to see you like this. It hurts so </span>
  <em>
    <span>bad</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Jong-ah. Just… please stop doing this to yourself."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wooyoung's voice is a melancholic melody now, one that's gorgeous despite the pain lacing it, the thinness of it a contrast to Seonghwa's deeper, warmer tone that's calming. It's another one of those things which remind Jongho of how he has lucked out in all the possible ways he could be when it comes to love, as if the spirits who controlled their magic had felt pity for him and gave him two instead of one person to love, most if not all their qualities contrasts except for the one thing they agreed upon, the love they showered Jongho with every day. He doesn't deserve it, doesn't deserve this, this note of sadness which swallows up Wooyoung's sunshine symphony and drowns him whole, this beautiful man who was angry and disappointed in him and yet, cradled him close like he was the most precious thing in the entire universe. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jongho wants to tell him he's like the river, that he'll never be the same again, but his body is frail and his pulse is slow and words require strength, strength he doesn't possess for he's fading and fading quickly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Hyung, get here fast!" Wooyoung yells, his voice loud and nervous, the composure he's trying to hold onto desperately leaking through as he presses against the gash over Jongho's heart with the sweater that they'd taken off.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Why is this one so deep?" Wooyoung asks, as he presses harder to staunch the blood flow, his body giving up on helping him out the moment it sensed Wooyoung's presence, letting him take over. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Seonghwa hyung," Jongho says, but that much is more than enough for the other man to understand what happened.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The expression on his face darkens at the words, and Jongho knows he's in for days of scolding, but all he manages is a weak smile as he uses the last dregs of his energy to cup Wooyoung's cheek with one hand. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You're gorgeous, hyung," Jongho says abruptly and off-topic, half-delirious now, eyes drawn to the way gold crackles at the other's fingertips.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wooyoung lets out a wet chuckle, Jongho watching his expression softening before he closes his eyes again, the familiar thud of Seonghwa's boots signalling the arrival of everything needed to help him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Am I?" Wooyoung sobs out, leaning in to kiss Jongho's forehead, his breath warm on his clammy skin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The rest of what happens is a blur as Jongho spins in and out of consciousness like a pendulum, swinging back and forth between frightening silence and the passive-aggressive banter between his boyfriends until he feels arms around him, briefly registering them lifting him up to their room.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>***</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"You shouldn't have pulled that card," Wooyoung tells him two days later when the worst of the scolding is over, Wooyoung and Seonghwa's nurturing instincts creeping through their angry facades as they fail to stay pissed at Jongho.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The chicken noodle soup Seonghwa cooked for them is warm in Jongho's lap, the tray holding the bowl conducting heat and warming his thighs through the fabric of his sweatpants. Wooyoung picks it up, the heat not bothering him due to his affinity with the elements, gracefully scooping a spoonful of the flavorful concoction, blowing on it and gesturing for Jongho to open his mouth. He leans in and sips it without much thought even though this gesture is an impossibility in eighteen-year-old Jongho's head from three years ago. Wooyoung feeds him again, gaze warmly set on him even if he hasn't responded to the elder’s words. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"He wouldn't listen," Jongho says, shoulders slumping when he deems that he's stayed quiet for long enough, that Wooyoung's patience has been tested for long enough.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wooyoung is silent for a long moment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I know, but can you blame him?" Wooyoung cajoles wearily.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I can't, but you know him, hyung," Jongho reminds him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Jongho, Seonghwa hyung is always going to put you first, put </span>
  <em>
    <span>both</span>
  </em>
  <span> of us first. We are all he has now, at least the only people he cares about now. He's given up the prestige of a noble family, a shot at having kids of his own, a life without any suffering, for </span>
  <em>
    <span>us</span>
  </em>
  <span>," Jongho's face drops at the words.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wooyoung seems to understand the exact way Jongho interprets it and he shakes his head emphatically as he denies it. "No, you know I didn't mean it like that,” he sighs, “He did it for both of us because he loves us and seeing you hurting, in pain, no matter what the circumstances are, it'll </span>
  <em>
    <span>always</span>
  </em>
  <span> hurt him. He will stop at nothing if something happened to us. This bond… it's more than just our souls being magically bound for him, Jongho. He knows that. We know that and we also know how much he's given up to have this one thing for himself. So, the best we can do to not hurt him is to stop ourselves from getting hurt."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wooyoung's eyebrows are knitted in a small frown, sadness and distress clear as day on his face. If Jongho wanted to he could hurt the other man, call him out for saying what he is now when he knew he would react the same way Seonghwa did, twist his words around so that every syllable out of his mouth is a hailstorm of pain. It’s impossible though, especially when his eyes flicker between gold and black signifying his lack of control around Jongho only because he loves him so much that his magic, more susceptible to Jongho's darkness than Seonghwa's, finds it hard to keep its cool around him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I shouldn't have dragged him into this. I shouldn't have dragged you into this. I should have just stayed away when I came to know about his family," Jongho laments instead of turning the table on Wooyoung even if his nature is hard to unlearn, to tame, so he decides on biting into his bottom lip hard enough to hurt. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Seonghwa had a family who wanted him to lead the next generation, to bond with a good witch, a woman who could carry on the bloodline, but then, as if by some stroke of luck, a blessing as he called it and an unfortunate event as Jongho did, they'd met him. What happened after had forced both Wooyoung and Seonghwa into this life. Jongho could pretend all his life that he didn't feel as guilty as he did the first day they bonded, but that didn't change how every moment with them felt like a stolen one, one he'd taken from fate without her permission, one that he didn't deserve even if a part of him knew that all of them wanted it just as much, if not more.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It's nothing Wooyoung doesn't know because they've had this conversation multiple times before, in harsh whispers and harsher screams, in soft mumbles and hushed crying, like a long-gone spring and an upcoming winter. The truth though, remained the same. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jongho will never be happy, will never quite reconcile with himself for having forced the two men he loved, for being the catalyst and ultimately the only reason behind why they were banished from their family. He'd sacrificed his own too, thrown out from a legacy he wanted nothing to do with. The only one who truly benefitted from this bond of love was him and he'd forever hold that over his head even if there are a million variations of Seonghwa and Wooyoung's voices in his head telling him that it's not the case.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wooyoung’s face softens, knitted eyebrows relaxing as his gaze traces the way Jongho knows his lips pale at the pressure of his teeth. The elder’s thumb presses down on his lip with a plea. Jongho pulls his thumb away to press a featherlight kiss on the tip.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"We've talked about this before," Wooyoung reminds him weakly, like he's too tired to yell at him, concern still hanging in the air around him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jongho wonders if one day Wooyoung will be tired of him too. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"No!" Wooyoung whispers harshly, gold crackling again, the tips of his hair starting to sparkle, and Jongho feels foolish for not controlling his thoughts strongly enough. Telepathy could be a pain when he was unhinged and wound up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I've… I love </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span>. I </span>
  <em>
    <span>love</span>
  </em>
  <span> you. Nothing could ever tire me out enough to leave you. Stop being so harsh on yourself… just… stop hurting yourself and us with these thoughts. Let yourself breathe," Wooyoung says, placing the bowl on the table as he wraps his arms around Jongho tight enough to pull at the stitches and hurt even though he heals faster than a human.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jongho realizes that it’s intentional only because Wooyoung winces in the next moment, smiling into the skin of Jongho's collarbone as he feels his pain rip away from under him, a soothing sensation filling his chest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Give it back," Jongho whispers. Wooyoung hugs him tighter and winces, breaths winded from what Jongho knows is agony that is not his as he kisses his neck. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"No, see, will I do this if I don't love you?" He asks. It's proving a point, and Jongho wants him to stop hurting himself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Hyung, please, let it go. Give my pain back," Jongho begs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"No, do you understand now?” Wooyoung breathes out, tiny staccato huffs that Jongho has pulled out of him multiple times before, just in different circumstances and never laced with pain like this. “I love you enough to hurt for you. Seonghwa hyung wants to do the same for you, but you know it's different for him. So, apologize to him for what you said, for what you promised me you wouldn't remind him of." Wooyoung's panting against him, sweating as the bond leeches all of Jongho's pain and transfers it to him. Seonghwa can't do this for Jongho because their magic is too different to ever sync on this level, but that doesn't mean he loves him any less, that he cares any less.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I will. I'm sorry I keep fucking up," Jongho says quickly, the apology feeling like he's trying to stick a band-aid on a broken bone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wooyoung glares at him for the apology and pulls back just a little to pepper kisses over his jaw before Jongho cups his cheeks, leaning in to kiss the other on the forehead.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Give it back," he says again, their lips touching. Wooyoung shakes his head, rejecting him once again, stubborn like the anchor tying a ship down to the seabed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You're </span>
  <em>
    <span>mine</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jongho’s spine tingles at the other’s voice, and it’s not just his body reacting to the words, it’s actual gold sparking up his veins courtesy of Wooyoung, the darkness in him shying away for a moment in the presence of light, but Jongho’s too focused on Wooyoung, on the way his skin is soft under his hands, on how his gaze is lightning and starlight, on how he has fields of gold in the tawny shade of his eyes and seas of love for him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your pain is mine too. The next time you get hurt, remember this," Wooyoung says, pecking his lips and angling his head to be let into Jongho's mouth. Jongho opens up without protest, kissing Wooyoung the way he likes it, biting his tongue and sucking on it as the other moans into his mouth, wet and hungry for more.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This is punishment in a way, a reminder that the comforting feeling where his pain is supposed to be is because Wooyoung's taken all his pain. The knowledge hurts, and he pulls at the bond to coerce the other into returning what is rightfully his even as he kisses him silly, the elder crawling into his lap at one point to better slot their mouths together. He's sweet like honey and strawberries with the slightest hint of spice that draws a moan out of Jongho's mouth, Wooyoung giggling into him at the sound.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Though it feels like he has the world under him, it hurts to know the other’s hurting because of him. It’s a lesson for Jongho, because Wooyoung’s pliant and loud when he deems it necessary, but he’s the most powerful out of the three of them, he takes without question, he gives without answers, and that’s just how he is. Jongho knows, yet everything in his spirit fights him anyway because good and evil aren’t supposed to coexist, and he’s sorry that the other’s stars aligned in the most twisted path possible to lead him right to him, the cursed child of a cursed family.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jongho opens his eyes as Wooyoung pulls him further down, leaning back on the couch, soup forgotten on the coffee table, the collar of his shirt moved away in favor of warm palms to meet cold skin. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Will you say sorry to him?” Wooyoung asks, arching up to kiss him once again. This kiss is more fervent than normal, pulling fervidly to the point Jongho feels like he has to nudge Wooyoung back to breathe but he doesn’t stop the other, curling one of his hands under the other’s shirt and on hot skin. Jongho swipes a tongue along his swollen lips to pacify the other, a tinge of confusion warping his stare before he nods, nosing down his neck to bite his shoulder, Wooyoung’s little breathy moan making him smile in the space between them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Now, will you please give my pain back, hyung? Please,” Jongho begs again, even if he has the upper hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That’s another thing though. He never has the upper hand. Even now, in the middle of what looks to be a situation where he can ask for control, he doesn’t, because he doesn’t trust himself, probably never will. This is just an illusion, an illusion Jongho allows because this way, he can hide farther in and no one will see, though he knows that Wooyoung and Seonghwa sees through all his fortresses, all his armor, all his shields, they see through every single article he’s ever made to use in defense anyway.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Will you stop hurting me if I give it back?” Wooyoung’s gaze flickers back and forth between his eyes like a broken lamp at the verge of dying. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Loving me is always gonna hurt,” Jongho breathes sadly, eyes closed as he presses his forehead against the other, his dark hair tangling with Wooyoung’s, a single tear rolling down his cheek.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wooyoung loops his hands around Jongho’s neck and tugs hard, Jongho falling against the other despite his attempts to not put his weight on his boyfriend, but Wooyoung is nothing if not persistent. His throat moves against Jongho’s shoulder as he hums comfortingly, a repeated litany of Jongho’s name.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t care,” Wooyoung tells him, and Jongho feels like someone has punched him in his throat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That’s that. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The hail stone in his chest wants to melt under Wooyoung’s loving gaze, though Jongho can see a river of pain that never disappears in the layers under his skin, so he holds him close, lets him tug him even closer and kisses his ears studded with silver earrings. It’s years of accumulated hurt, and it’s not the kind Jongho can take back because Wooyoung’s not hurt like he is, he is only hurting because he is. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t wanna give it back,” Wooyoung confesses in the breaths exchanged between them. Jongho shakes his head because his pain is his to bear and even though he knows physical pain doesn't hold a candle to the ache in his chest under the brittle framework of his ribs, Wooyoung’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> supposed to hurt for him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please,” Jongho pleads for the millionth time, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>please,</span>
  </em>
  <span>” he repeats forlornly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Convincing Wooyoung is hard, but Jongho hopes that the agony he feels seeps through the layers of the bond, that the threads and vines curling together irrevocably and unconditionally inside them, binding them in an everlasting bond can do their part and help him out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry,” Wooyoung says finally in defeat, and Jongho smiles as the elder arches up to kiss him once more before agony trickles in slowly through his veins. Jongho grits his teeth as the wounds begin to feel real again. He straightens up, sitting on the couch and pats his lap as Wooyoung spares him a quizzical glance before he climbs over gingerly as he gets the message.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What brought this on?” He asks as Jongho rubs his cheek against the open collar of Wooyoung’s shirt where his light sepia-tinted skin is on display, clutching the elder to him in a tight embrace even if Wooyoung's grip on him is loose this time to avoid jostling the wounds.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just wanted to hold you,” Jongho says, leaving kisses he hopes can make every bad moment they’ve had to work through disappear in billowing smoke and leave no traces.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wooyoung’s giggle resounds in his ears, then his heart and reverberates right through the thin tendrils of gold curling around the black inside him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You always want to hold me,” Wooyoung returns, happiness in his voice as a ghost of a kiss is placed rewardingly upon his head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jongho doesn’t reply verbally, humming noncommittally and getting lost in the scent of honeysuckle and sunshine. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Strangely enough, the darkness inside him retracts, stays as far away from gold as it possibly can even as gold reaches out to envelop it, but unlike the beginning, it doesn't lash out. Jongho wonders if after all these years the darkness has fallen for Wooyoung too.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It doesn't surprise him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>***</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>With the promise he’d made to Wooyoung of apologizing to Seonghwa, the next hurdle is actually getting the elder man alone. Seonghwa’s evasion skills are next to none, and Jongho struggles to find an actual place or time where he can corner the man and give him the rightfully deserved apology. Even with the way he was brought up in the midst of pomp and leisure, Seonghwa has always been someone who cherished simplicity and so, Jongho knows that he isn’t a  fan of grand gestures. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>However, the elder slipping out of bed before Jongho can even enter the land of consciousness and coming in so late at night that he barely sees him complicates the situation. He tries staying up, but Wooyoung has nightmares that send him into breakdowns and as such, waiting up on the couch for Seonghwa to get home isn’t something Jongho can do. On the rare days he actually sees Seonghwa, stirring a pot of oatmeal or coming in the afternoon to cook kimchi fried rice for lunch or carrying Wooyoung in from the store after a particularly tiring day, he doesn’t meet his gaze, and even if he does, he looks away so quickly that even Jongho’s unusually observant self is thrown headfirst into doubt of whether it was just him projecting or Seonghwa actually doing all he can to avoid talking to him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jongho knows that he could just look at his boyfriend genuinely, and the elder would tug him close in acceptance of the apology he wants to say even if he doesn’t verbally convey it. Seonghwa is always considerate and understanding like that, two traits that had pulled Jongho in even when his magic told him that their bond was incompatible.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jongho hadn’t cared. Neither had Seonghwa.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was the obvious initial denial, more on Jongho’s part than Seonghwa’s, but their circumstances were, for lack of better words, wild and chaotic. The years have taught him important lessons though, lessons of giving and receiving respect, of loving against all odds, of opening himself up to become vulnerable in the arms of the two people he loves most.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s the middle of the night when Wooyoung’s squirming wakes Jongho up. Seonghwa’s side of the bed is still empty. Sighing, Jongho tucks his forehead to Wooyoung’s nape and hooks his ankles with the other’s, whispering nonsense as the elder shakes in his arms. Wooyoung’s hands find his even in deep sleep, grasping them tight as he trembles violently, tears wetting the pillow. Jongho doesn’t have to see it to know it’s happening. It hurts to hear a voiceless, breathless cry escape the other, but that seems to be the end of it as his body relaxes against Jongho’s. He holds Wooyoung for a bit longer before he gets up albeit unwillingly, groping around the bedside table for the wet wipes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gingerly untangling their limbs, Jongho rounds the bed, wiping at his own eyes with the sleeve of his sweater. Wooyoung’s face is blotchy, eyelids puffy from crying in sleep. Jongho wishes Seonghwa was here, wishes he could just hold Wooyoung and let the elder take care of Wooyoung because it never feels like he’s doing enough on the nights when one side of the bed is empty because Seonghwa is a man of his words more than anything else, because Jongho’s scared of not being enough on his own for Wooyoung. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s nearly impossible to wake Wooyoung up when he’s this exhausted, so he doesn’t have to put a lot of effort into being gentle, but he does it anyway, tenderly wiping away the traces of tears from the other’s flushed cheeks and gold spun eyelashes. He pushes the other’s black hair away from his forehead, laying a kiss on his forehead, breathing the words he knows spell condemnation for Wooyoung, but he can’t help it because he means it with everything he has.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wading through the darkness, Jongho nearly drops the glass jar in his hands at Seonghwa’s slumped figure under the dim light in the kitchen, his palms flat on the countertop, hair falling forward like a curtain. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looks defeated, like he’s lost a war and has nothing left, but that’s wrong because he has Jongho and Wooyoung.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Seonghwa will never taste defeat, not when he had them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Seonghwa doesn’t look up even as Jongho approaches him. He knows what that means. He puts the jar on the counter loudly enough to hint to the elder that if this is a bad time, he can walk away and pretend like he didn’t see him even though he hopes that Seonghwa lets him do this for him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The elder’s frame shakes as Jongho waits for a response. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The tremors are enough for Jongho to scoop him up in a back hug as a guttural sob rips from Seonghwa’s throat. He turns him around, tears already falling from his eyes as Seonghwa slumps forward into his arms, face tucked into his chest. The other is taller, but he’s trying so hard to cave into himself, like he doesn’t want to stand proudly with his chest puffed and back straight, like he doesn’t want to step out into the world again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jongho shushes him, his own voice breaking as he whispers assurances he knows the other doesn’t hear. Like this, Seonghwa is magnolia blooming in the spring and sea breeze at dawn, he’s victory of the highest kind and defeat that rips you apart at the seams, he’s fire and ice, and touching him burns because their magic isn’t supposed to meld, they aren’t meant to be, yet they are, and that’s the only thing that matters.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Like this, Seonghwa doesn’t have to tell him that he trusts him because it’s clear enough, because no one but Jongho and Wooyoung will ever get to see him like this, knees on the brink of collapsing under the weight of the world, eyes lost and senses delirious. Like this, Seonghwa isn’t the uptight gentleman witch with an indifference towards everything. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Like this, Seonghwa is Jongho’s, his lover who trusts him to keep him together before his worries cause him to drift away in the wind and give in to the ancient magic resting in his veins under golden skin and a diamond soul, looking polished and proper to the outsiders, the little chips at the corners visible only to Jongho and Wooyoung.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Want to talk about it?” Jongho asks, lips brushing the other’s salty skin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Seonghwa clutches him closer, tighter, and Jongho knows something’s wrong.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s… I had a vision, Jongho. He’s…” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Flashes from days ago, the gentle voice of the fortune teller reverberates in Jongho’s head, and he freezes before he nods.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know. She told me. I wanted to talk to you both, but you were too busy running away from me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Seonghwa makes a pained whine, his hand apologetically smoothing the hair at the base of Jongho’s neck even if Jongho knows that he fully deserved the streak of silence.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What did she say?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jongho pulls away, linking their hands instead, lowering himself and dragging Seonghwa down to the floor with him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Some cryptic bullshit,” Jongho says, thumb smoothing over the small cuts on Seonghwa’s palm. “Long story short, she thinks he’s going to be in danger, that he’s going to put himself in the line of fire for me. She said I can prevent it because I can take it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s it?” Seonghwa asks, slumping further down to rest his head on the crook of his neck. Jongho nudges him lightly with his chin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, it scared the life out of me,” Jongho admits. “What did you see?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Seonghwa’s entire body locks up at the question, but they have to talk about it to solve this mess, so he stays put.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It was just him walking towards us and collapsing. I try to run towards him, and you pull me along too, but it doesn’t work, something stops me from coming with you, so I push you to him. Before you can make it to him, he… he starts spitting blood, and then he’s just… just gone. I see you screaming but I can’t move and I can’t hear you either, like I’m not supposed to be there.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jongho rubs circles on the other’s palm, inhaling deeply.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s what she said, that you’ll have to stand and watch,” Jongho pauses, turning his head a little and taking in the other’s ruffled appearance and tired eyes, thick eyelashes downcast like he’s already given up on himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It seems like I’m always standing and watching, Jong-ah. I’m tired of it. I wish I could do the things you and Wooyoung do for each other. I wish that both our souls were compatible. I wish I could protect the both of you the way I want to. I wish I could just…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not letting him complete, Jongho pulls him close, letting their lips slot together, Seonghwa melting under him in the blink of an eye. He tastes like magnolia and strawberry and the kind of fire that’s dangerously warm, but Seonghwa’s magic has never scared Jongho away, just like his own magic hadn’t scared the other away when he had all the more reason to run away when Jongho had just been a stranger, a dark witch who could never do good. Tilting his head, Jongho kisses the elder with all the love he has for him, hoping that it shines through in this single gesture, that Seonghwa will always be enough for them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You do so much more for us than you realize. Our souls may not be compatible because of the nature of our magic, but your heart, it syncs with mine, hyung. It syncs with his. That’s all that matters. That’s all that has ever mattered.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Seonghwa is the one who leans in this time, but he breaks a few seconds into the kiss, handing the reins back to Jongho, clutching at his t-shirt with tight fists, desperation showing its true form.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I wanna help him when this thing happens, but I know I can’t. Will you… will you do it for me?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jongho nods quickly. “Of course. I won’t let him get hurt. I won’t let you get hurt. Not when I’m here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Seonghwa sits back, satisfied, looping their arms together at the elbow, leaning on him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s easy to fall into the comfortable quiet that follows. Seonghwa pulls into his shell when he’s concerned over something and with Wooyoung asleep, Jongho can’t actually force the other into a conversation, but he draws a line over the plane of Seonghwa’s cheek with his thumb to get his attention.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry,” he says. The surprise from the sudden call for attention fades from the elder’s eyes as he smiles warmly, knowingly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know you are,” Seonghwa replies, tilting his head to kiss Jongho’s jaw, a gesture meant to be placating and spell acceptance to him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t mean to,” Jongho continues before he realizes that he doesn’t have anything more to say. He feels sorry for saying that to Seonghwa, but he doesn’t regret it, because if he hadn’t, Seonghwa would have gone ahead and healed him, only to fall into a coma for days.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The knowing look on Seonghwa’s face is something Jongho expects, so it doesn’t shock him that the elder knows what he’s thinking already.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How long did it take for Wooyoung to convince you?” Seonghwa asks, the slightest hint of teasing in his voice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not very long,” Jongho admits. Wooyoung had way too much power over them, and he knew it too.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Seonghwa hums. “Let’s go to bed.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Seonghwa presses another kiss to his neck after he says it. Jongho doesn’t protest the move, following the elder as he walks with light steps to where gold rests alone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He cried again, didn’t he?” Seonghwa asks even before he lays his gaze on Wooyoung.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Jongho breathes, going around the bed to sit down on the mattress. Wooyoung hasn’t moved much in the time it has taken for him to return. There aren’t any tear tracks on his face now which means that he’s been calm the entire time. If there had been any shifts, Jongho knows that Seonghwa or he would have sensed it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gentle rustling fills his ears as he stares at the ceiling before he feels long fingers curling around his wrist.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jong-ah, come back.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Seonghwa’s voice is gentle and quiet, but Jongho doesn’t think he’s ever heard him so loudly in his head before.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry,” he says, a reflex.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Seonghwa leans over Wooyoung and nudges his head with his own. “We’ll be okay.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It doesn’t ring with the certainty that Seonghwa usually says things with, but for tonight it’s enough to calm the water spout in the darkness pooling around Jongho and tugging him down.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I love you,” Jongho says suddenly because looking at the elder, it’s the only thing that comes to his mind.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Seonghwa doesn’t reply with his mouth, instead, Jongho hears it in his head, his deep tone twirling around like a dancing pixie inside him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jongho settles behind Wooyoung, putting his other arm over Seonghwa’s thin waist, the elder’s hand gripping his arm and squeezing it before he resorts to lightly massaging the skin there.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wooyoung remains oblivious, but his breaths even out more so than it was, and Jongho feels gold entwine with his black and Seonghwa’s crimson. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Like this, it’s almost like it's a normal night for them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Even if Jongho knows that a thunderstorm is on their heels, one they can’t avoid, only endure.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>TADA!!</p><p>A storm is coming for them~~ </p><p>Come yell at me on my <a href="https://curiouscat.me/wooyoungisthesun">CC</a>!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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